


The Romero Job

by Medie



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stupid zombies. Eliot really hated zombies. People you could fight. Zombies just growled and chewed a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Romero Job

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Multifandom Zombie Apocalypse Comment!Fic Meme](http://community.livejournal.com/spiffy_things/572.html) prompt _Leverage, Eliot, even faced with a zombie horde, Eliot doesn't like using guns. So while the others practice with shotguns, he finds other ways to fight the undead._

"Oh, seriously, man? You are _not_ \-- " Hardison's face twisted into a look of disgust overlaid by disdain, offense, and about a dozen other words that, in Eliot-speak, translated into 'oh sweet Jesus no'.

Okay, that was more Hardison-speak than Eliot-speak, but Eliot chalked that up to spending so much time around the guy. That mouth was going pretty much twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, and yeah, that had to have an effect on a man.

Like a lot.

"Yes," Eliot said, "I am." He dusted glass off his arms, off Hardison, and rolled his eyes at Parker. "Stop that."

She looked back up, hands still rapidly shoving ammunition into her bag. "No." With the bag full, she tossed it back to Sophie who tossed it to Nate who stuffed it into their previously-owned truck (and by that they all meant pilfered armored vehicle) and went back for more. "Just because you don't like them doesn't mean they don't make zombie heads end up in a bunch of little pieces." She picked up a box of, naturally, explosive rounds and grinned cheerfully. "I like zombie heads in little pieces and that means I like guns that make them end up that way. Also grenades." She made a face. "But Nate won't let me have those."

"Darling, you nearly blew up the van," Sophie reminded. She picked up a gun of her own, expecting it with interest. "Do hurry up, Eliot. Nightfall soon and you know how they get about the dark."

Zombies weren't that fond of daylight. Hardison claimed it was because they couldn't get their groove on in daylight. A zombie just couldn't look awesomely terrifying when shuffling down the street in broad daylight.

They didn't really shuffle, though. These zombies were more Resident Evil than Dawn of the Dead (the original not the crap-ass remakes.)

Not that it mattered to Eliot. They all died the same damn way. He made his way to the back of the store and found what he'd been looking for. Okay, he found what he'd been hoping for. He'd been making do with whatever he could find. The machete had lasted the longest, but just didn't feel _right_. Weight was wrong, cut not clean enough, it just didn't have the style. A man needed style, even when the world had, well, gone completely ass up.

Stupid zombies. Eliot really hated zombies. People you could fight. Zombies just growled and chewed a lot. Or, at least, they did until you shot them/set them on fire/bashed their head in/dropped a truck on them. After that, they just stank up the place something awful. Whole thing was just a really godawful mess when you got right down to it.

He needed a chance at a little order. Like them. In the filtered orange of the late afternoon sun they were beautiful. The light gleamed along the edge of blades, a siren song of chaos and order.

_Perfect._

He took a moment before lifting them down from the wall.

"Swords?" Hardison's eyebrows rose dramatically. "There are zombies crawling over a good chunk of the civilized world and your best plan is sharp knives with ambition?"

Eliot grinned.

"Yep."

Parker tipped her head and grinned. "I like them. They're shiny and sharp. Sharp's good."

"Also, no need for reloading," Nate called back. "Which may come in handy in short order if you guys don't hurry up." He cocked his shotgun. The sound echoed on the empty street and served as the reminder he intended it to be. The sun was going down.

They'd be roaming soon. Some of them moved about in the day, wandering the streets with the overriding instinct to feed, but most couldn't handle the sun. It was weird, sort of, but Eliot didn't really question it. Most of his zombie knowledge came from that Resident Evil marathon Hardison had talked him into. Which meant, other than Milla rocking the hell out of that damn dress, it was aim for the head and never ever look back.

Eliot let the others finish their scavenging, stuffing weapons and ammo into bags, and rigs up a harness for the katana and their scabbards. They fit across his back like they belong there and he found himself breathing just that much easier.

Satisfied, he grabbed the last bag from Sophie and then nudged Hardison none too gently toward the door. "We should go."

For her part, Parker didn't need any encouragement. Armed to the teeth like a tiny blonde Rambo, she sprang from the counter to the floor and then out through the door to stand beside Nate. She hefted her own shotgun and smiled. Total ear-to-ear grin.

Downright creepy, but he still smiled back. Sure, it was kind of disturbing how well Parker had taken to the whole end of civilization thing - like _really_ disturbing - but it was Parker. The girl just did things her own way. End of the world or no.

"You know, that woman is downright perky about the apocalypse," Hardison muttered.

"So were you," Parker said. Opening the door, she hopped into the front seat and trained her eyes on the empty street around them. "Then the whole internet thing."

"_Parker_." Eliot laid a hand on Hardison's arm, soothing, forestalling the rant. "Do we really need to bring that up right now?"

"Don't worry," Sophie said, bumping hips with Hardison. "I'm sure they'll get it back up and running."

"Yeah," Nate said, "and good old Eleven will be right there waiting to be torrented."

Hardison took up position in the back. The do "Yeah, he will. If he's not, then we are _going_ to have a problem, man. You do not mess with a fanboy and his Who." When Eliot joins him, he looks over with a frown. "Seriously, though, swords? That's going to mean a seriously scary level of up close and personal."

Eliot smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Damn straight you will." Hardison checked the gun in his hands. "You think I'm grouchy when deprived of my Doctor? See what happens when I get deprived of my Eliot. Believe me, that'll be the day shit gets _real_."

"You know," Parker said. "The apocalypse isn't supposed to be -- "

"I think," Sophie said quickly, her hand clamped firmly over Parker's mouth, "that is a sentiment best saved for a moment when everyone isn't quite so well-armed or, perhaps, well-armed."

"Still," Parker muttered through her fingers, "they _are_."

Eliot closed his eyes. It was bad to be wishing for a sudden onset of zombie action, wasn't it?

Very, very bad.


End file.
